


Silent Screams (we are unheard)

by rebelrie13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Character, Child Abuse, Dark Harry Potter, Depressed Harry, Hermione Granger Bashing, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mental Health Issues, Ron Weasley Bashing, Seer Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape Bashing, only in the beginning though, she'll get better eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelrie13/pseuds/rebelrie13
Summary: Harry comes to Hogwarts for fifth year a little colder. A little more broken. He spent a summer at the hands of the Dursleys, but his friends were together. They didn't say a word. He is angry and he is scarred. Dumbledore really should have learned. Abused children are not easily moulded like wet clay. They are shattered glass, ready to tear your hands apart.





	1. Let's set the scene

You sit in the corner. It is so bright and your back stings. But you are used to pain. You see your friends. They love you. The idea of you. A hero, noble and brave, strong and fearless. First is the girl. She was the first to believe in you. The girl with bushy hair and an endless litany of facts. She hides behind knowledge like you hide your bruises. The girl is smart, so smart, but she is proud. Stubborn. That is why you do not tell her. You don't want to break her. Her eyes look so pretty behind rose-colored glasses. Next is the boy. Red hair and worn robes and seven shadows. He is jealous and angry. Petty. But he is loyal and he has grown up in this world. He is useful. The girl and the boy are your first friends. They are not true friends.

The boy wants glory, riches, and fame. He has all you ever wanted but he dismisses it as nothing. An annoyance. He is the friend that will turn his back. The kind that will spit at you as soon as smile. He is predictable. His hatred and bigotry. It is ironic how much he sounds like those he hates. The boy come from a family who worship the goat. The mother says she loves you, but says nothing about your bruises. The father says he cares, but he sees you as a novelty. The boy is easy.

The girl is not. She is fire. Bright and untamed always moving, growing and shrinking with the wind. You do not know if she can be trusted. She knows so many things, uses information like armor. Sometimes her eyes are a little too sharp, look a little too deep. You do not know what to do with the girl. She is born from outside, a foreigner, and the goat is her champion. She will trust his words until her dying breath. That is why you do not tell her.


	2. A tragedy

You step off the train. There are shadows in the shape of horses. Like buckbeak, but they are skeletons. The girl looks at you. She wants to know why you have stopped. The boy does not notice. He never notices, because he does not want to. You reach out a hand and the shadow does not bite. It arches in, like it has not known a gentle touch. 

"It's okay. I can see them too. You're just as sane as I am." There is a girl with eyes like the moon. The girl speaks like moonlight, soft as the shadows that hold you. You have never seen her, but she sees you. More than the girl ever has, more than he boy has ever cared to. The girl is angry, because she can not see she does not like to be reminded of how blind she is. The girl insults the moon out of habit. It is not malicious, but her casual cruelty is worse. But the moon does not care. The moon is like you, she does not need light. But she makes her own. You are shadows and whispers, secrets that hide. She is kind hands and wide eyes, creatures that nobody believes in. 

You are home. This castle, these stones, they raised you. You came here a freak, good for nothing, a waste of space. She made you special. Strong loved. The eyes that watch you are hard, but secret passageways wrap around you like a blanket. You go inside. There is the goat, who thinks you do not notice the strings he holds in his hands. There is the bat, who hates you like the Dursleys hate you. But he is not dangerous. He wields detention and humiliation like the walrus weilds his belt and the whale weilds his fists. The toad is new. You have seen her before, when she tried to keep you from your home. She curls her lips like the horse, but her eyes are like the snake's. She is dangerous. 

The goat makes a speech, but so does the toad. You see the beginning of a war, and he has lost the first battle. Your lips curl up into a smirk. The goat is flaming behind kind eyes. He is losing his mask. You worry that this will be the year you lose yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I'm looking for a beta if anyone is interested. I don't have one, so any mistakes are my own.


	3. Beating with my heart

You have lived here four years. These people have become your family. You know not to trust family. Family is harsh words and bruises and cupboards under the stairs. You knew this was coming. It's happened twice.

Second year, a small boy, too small, is hiding in a corridor from angry students and uncaring teachers. You are not evil, the snakes have always been kind to you. Behind the house, digging tiny hands into dirt. If you tried hard enough you might get dinner. The ground moves but you were not afraid. There are whispers, soft and angry. 

"Stay away. Stay away. You will not hurt me."

"It is okay," you whisper back, soft and soothing. "I know what it is to be hurt."

They were shocked but not angry. It was a combination you had never before seen. They were companions that took you through the darkest nights, before you learned that it was not the night you had to be afraid of. 

Fourth year, last year. When you saw the truth behind the boy's words. When you saw the strings attached to your wrists and followed them back to the goat. That was a year of confusion and betrayal and most of learning. You learned so many things. If someone betrays you once, they will do it again. The collective head of the ministry will only be pulled out of the goat's ass if their power is threatened. You saw a boy die, a kind boy, who had done nothing to you. He had also done nothing for you. Kindness does not apply to you. 

You tried to warn everyone, you scream and cried because you knew that your childhood was over. The snake is a Pandora's box. They did not believe you, they vilified you. You will not try to convince them of the danger. They have hurt you too many times to expect you to save them. The goat will hate you, everyone will hate you, but they will be shocked. And in that moment before your destruction, you will have won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed in the tags that there is an asexual character. That's Luna. I do plan for her to have a romantic relationship though, so any suggestions are welcome.


	4. Don't forget me

The boy and the girl are so angry. So secure in their righteousness that they do not see you step back. They do not see you become one of the shadows. They are proud and do not think of the destruction they will cause, weilding their words like sledgehammers. These faces do not believe you, hearts beating securely with the knowledge that danger is a lie. You know that the second they discover the danger is real, the will put you back up on a pedestal. You will be their hero, and they will build you a new cage out of scrap metal. 

Why would you save the people who spit at you, hoping their words will turn into acid strong enough to burn you. They will give you nothing when you succeed, because that was their expectation. They will not apologize for casting you out. Your greatest tragedy was believing that they were anything but Dursleys in disguise. You let them hurt you, worm their way into you chest, gave their claws easy access to your heart. 

It is dark and they are asleep, but you do not feel safe at night with them laying around you. So you step out, lightly under the cloak, the one that hangs around you like a secret. The map to show you footsteps. And so you go through the hallways, letting your hand brush against her walls. She is more of a mother than the one that screams in nightmares. You feel her presence wrap around you, holding you. 

But you leave her walls and enter the forest. There is a change in air pressure, these trees are resistant to the atmosphere. You close your eyes and you keep walking, one step, one step. You hear rustling leaves, broken branches, but there is no touch. They do not come close enough for you to feel their breath on the back of your neck, for the hairs on your arms to rise like hackles. 

And then you hear the moon. She had radishes hanging from her ears, wide eyes. She has a soft voice, a kind voice. It is not commanding or condescending or any other -nding. "I can see them too, you are not alone." She waits for you to speak, does not put out a hand, does not come too close. The moon lets you walk to her. She waits in the dark because she knows you are dark. 

"I'm sorry for the girl. I'm sorry that the boy did not look at you. I sorry I have not noticed you." You want the moon to understand. You want a friend. You see the way she feeds the thestrals, with soft hands and gentle words. 

"It is okay, little shadow." 

And you smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking I'd of having Luna with Neville, thank you Valerie 376 for suggesting it. So you guys want Hermione to be good or bad? I personally like Hermione, but I want to hear your suggestions.


	5. Let me slip away

It's all your fault, you can hear them screaming at you. "Freak!" They also said you were worthless, waste of space, be grateful that we care enough to discipline you. Stop crying, you're over dramatic. Freaks don't get parents, don't tell anyone, you know not to tell anyone. Green light. Screams. Bodies falling, it is your fault, both of them are your fault. Everyone blames you, you see in their eyes. 

"Breathe, child." It comes from behind your ear, wraps around you, careful not to touch. It wants to comfort but it does not want to scare you. You are confused. "It's just a dream, sweet boy. It can not hurt you anymore, I will protect you."

And you see a boy standing guard as your vision grows dark. He is familiar, but you can not place that face without a smirk. You rest and dream of moons and skeletal horses, shadows to hold you and snakes to protect you. 

It is the first time you have slept through the night since the spare fell. You blink open your eyes and make your way to the toilets. There are smudges around your eyes, but they are softer. You get dressed, ignoring their eyes, the look that the boy gives you when he thinks you do not see. The robes hang off of your arms, a reminder of the summer. But you are stronger than their fists, harsh words, roaming hands. 

You push the thought out of your mind. You feel the castle's presence around you, reminding you that you are loved, leading you to the moon. The moon walks with you to the kitchens, away from the hard eyes. They will be angry, yes, but you have someone to protect you, someone who wants to protect you. There are little eyes, with wide eyes like the moon, dressed in rags like a little boy shivering in a cupboard under the stairs. 

"Look at me little one," the moon smiles at you. "Your head is full of wrackspurts. Nasty creatures. Let me tell, you a secret," she leans in and whispers, "I had wrackspurts too."

She offers no more words, but it is enough. You can breath without feeling like there are cobwebs built up in your lungs. You walk with the moon to dungeons, and when you turn to thank her, she is gone. Your lips curl up into a smile that the eyes can't see, but the moon can feel. You are alone, but the room is dark, and shadows will cloak you from the boy and the bat and angry little snakes with sharp fangs. 

You step in and feel the air become cold, hard, as the bat glares into you. His dark eyes are stone, and he appears to want to bludgeon you with them. "If any of you dunderheads have two brains cells to run together, you will remember that you will be taking you OWL exams at the end of this year. Today we will be brewing the drought of peace, which I fully expect at least half of you will need in the final weeks before your OWLs. In preparation for the numerous nervous breakdowns, the correctly brewed potions will be sent to Madam Pomfrey's stock in the hospital wing." 

The girl is angry, her hair becoming raised like the hackles of a cat. She is whispering furiously under her breath, but she goes silent the moment she sees you. In an effort to prevent the deaths of every student in the class, the girl like been paired with the little lion. She can pay no attention to you if you wants to pass this class. This is a fact you are counting on. You have been standing in the doorway, hovering, and instead of walking over to girl and the lions, you stop by the baby snakes. You do not pair with the ferret or the pug, but with the spider spinning his webs. It is time for you to spin webs of your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys, I know this isn't the best chapter. My depression has been getting worse lately, so my writing isn't as good as I would like it to be. I hope that you still enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, I'm thinking that Hermione is going to be good later in the story, but she needs Harry to shut her out for a while as a wake up call. What do you guys think?


	6. Into the dark

The spider is watching you. You can see the calculations in his head, the ones that the girl would explain slowly, to tell you in her own way that she knows she is smarter than you. The ferret comes up, so full of righteous anger, a little snake wearing a lion mane. You want to tell him that he reminds you of the boy, and watch his face become as red as the boys hair. Instead, you turn away from him to face the spider. He smirks like he understands, like he is amused by your efforts. You look at his face, his eyes, watch as his impression shifts, a gear getting locked into place. If anyone will see, pry the mask off your face, it will be him, but there will be no one to dry the rivulets of blood dripping down. You have worn it for so long that is has been etched into your skin like the scar. 

But you have never been fond of this mask, it is a golden cage, so bright and shiny that you hardly noticed it until the goat locked the door. These thoughts are unnecessary, and the bat's voice pulls you out, the first time you want to thank him. He gives a lecture filled with advanced vocabulary, exaggerating syllables, and condescending smirks, that manages to have so many words but so little educational value. He favors the little snakes and is wary of the spider. You admire the spider's mother, her wicked touches and a poison bite. The bat fears her. 

All of the indgredients are layed out, and you are assigned the task of chopping and slicing and crushing, just like before. It is so like the Dursleys, huddled into yourself with breath on the back of your neck. There is a hand on you your arm and you flinch, hands coming up to protect your face. It is silly, he never touches your face, it is too obvious and even the walrus has more brains that that. You are scared, just a small boy clothed in rags, nobody would miss him and you breathe quickly, quickly. 

"Calm down," the spider hisses. All the little snakes are watching curiously, lacking their trademark contempt. Even the ferret is thinking, something you weren't aware that he was capable of. You look down, go back to chopping, ignore their stares, their whispers. The spider nods, and you pass him the moonstone. It turns pink and blue, the syrup of hellebore that will morph it into purple. It is hypnotising, and you can almost understand the anger that the bat feels when people dismiss this art as unimportant. The act of stirring is calming, though that may just be an effect of the fumes. 

When the draught is completed, it is an opalescent white, the moon's hair, her smile, and you wish for a moment that you had let yourself become a snake. It is so tempting to be able to sit and watch, not expected to fight. This is a sweet fantasy, a warm smile, sunlight through the window. The class ends with the bat near exploding, ha want to humiliate you, but he will not do a thing to his snakes. You watch him simmer. If things are going to hell, you will not go gently.


	7. We become

You sit in against a stone wall, feel her warmth as she comforts you. The moon has her nargles and you have your moon. The boy has his pride, so stubborn in the knowledge that he is righteous. He is betrayed, you left him for snakes. Snakes are worthless, don't you know, just like a little boy with spiders in his hair. You wonder what the boy would say if he saw you then. The girl has her brain, her unshakeable belief in authority. 

There are five minutes before you see the new teacher. Four and three quarters before you place you head onto the chopping block. 3.015 minutes until 5, 4, 3, 2 hide from the eyes and do not speak. Words will betray you. You step down 6, 7, 8 steps into the arena. You are not armed but you do not want to be. If these people these eyes these hearts do not believe you, why would you save those who refuse to save themselves?

There is a pink toad with venom in her eyes and you remember that in nature bright colors are poisonous. She has a lecture, one that makes the girl angry, so angry. One that was meant for you. She is disappointed when you don't respond to the barbed wire she places in the goat's words. No one but the moon has seemed to see that you feed off of every insult. The goat has ruined you. He had a spy, a woman with too many cats, and not enough sense, who should have known should have told him. 

So you will not jump to his defense. This is the beginning of the end you see. You breathe in, deeper and deeper, because you heard once that oxygen become fire and you are ready to burn. The guilded cage will melt, gold soaking into your skin. You have been marked before and you will be marked again but this mark will your own and you will wear the scars with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about how long this took for me to write. I recently became homeless, so I've been crashing at friends houses. The quality isn't the best it could be, but I hope you like it.


	8. The shadows

You take the map, the one that knows more of your father than you ever will. You got a letter from a man who calls you James. It should not hurt this much, knowing that the people who are meant to love you are in love with an idea. You suppose that you should be grateful. When you were a little boy, crying over a puffy eye and crooked fingers, you would have done anything for a gentle look. For someone to kiss your bruises and tell you that everything will be alright. You wanted sweet lies. But now they taste sickly, sticking to the top of your mouth. You have wandered these halls for so many years now, found passageways with paintings of secrets. It feels nice to be a secret. There is power in knowledge and you are unknown. 

There have been many little secrets who have walked these halls. Eyes who have seen too much, hearts that have not felt enough. You remember a snake with a shadow that could kill with a look. At night, sometimes, when everything aches, you think of him. He was interested, he could have learned everything. He was ready to peel you apart, layer by layer, to see the picture underneath. Little Ginny carried him around in her head for so long. Just like you. You think of a high laugh, so cold, a flash of green, a woman screaming. The stone is jarring as you fall to your knees. You do not fall in a solid motion like like the man with two faces. You fall like a puppet whose strings have been cut. 

When you close your eyes there are so many things, hidden things, that lie in wait. A little boy, tears, pain, a snake with your blood, a boy who wanted a hero, a girl who wants to know, a goat with lights in his eyes, who has hurt you more than the snake could ever hope to. And there is a hand on your shoulder. It is not the castle, whose warmth lays across you back. It is a boy with cold hands. It is a snake. You do not have to turn around to see his face. This is an awful idea, truly, one of the worst that you have ever had. And that is why you lean back, let him hold you. Nobody has ever whispered you sweet nothings before. He is cold and hard, but you have never been held so tight. Like you are something precious. Tears sting your eyes, and he turns you around in his lap, kisses away you tears.

"It is okay, I am here. You are mine, I will never let you go."

It occurs to you that these words should scare you. 

"I have missed you so much."

You whisper against his neck. It flutters, a little, and he holds himself stiff for a moment. You want him back, and start to pull back. He holds tight, harder, like he is afraid that someone will take you from him. He calls you darling, precious, his. You like the idea of being his. For minutes or hours, you sit wrapped around each other. And then the moon walks by. She smiles at you and looks at the snake. 

"He is a sweet little shadow and if you hurt him I will destroy you."

Her voice is still soft, like she is talking about nargles and wrackspurts. The snake smiles back. Neither of you ask why the moon can see him. She sees everything. She brushes back your hair. And then she walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading this. Things are finally stabilizing, so I now have a solid time to write. I'm actually really happy with how this chapter turned out.


	9. That they told us

You wake up with a smile. This is a morning where the dust hangs in the air, catches the sunlight. It seems incongruous to enjoy the light. It blinds you, takes away the shadows, daydreams. It is so much harder to disappear when the darkness is gone. You dreamed of the little snake during the night. Of his hands in your hair. A solid weight on your back, holding you, angry eyes glaring back at everyone who ever hurt you. Your cheeks warm, remembering that the snake lives in your head. He can watch your dreams, sees you. 

On these morning, when the blankets wrapped around you feels like a mothers arms, and the curtains wrapped around your bed hides you from the eyes. But you step out, let the cold if the stone floor sink into your bones. You need to be cold, need to be ice, turn your eyes into frostbite and your heart into stone. This is how to survive. This is how to wear a mask that is not a mask that will always be a mask. The secret to keeping a secret is to never call it a secret. 

In your trunk lie new clothes, clean clothes, they are yours yours yours. They didn't belong to the whale, no patches, frayed edges, pigmented chemicals to create an elephants skin. They are a kind of armour, the kind women have made their homes in for centuries. You dress in the bathroom. It is a habit now, to hide the scars. The bruises are a mottled yellow green, making a grotesque painting across your back, your ribs, your chest. Your body is a battlefield, carnage strewn across it like flies caught in fluorescent lights. 

The boy stares at you, eyes tightening in an aborted glare, hands bunched in his robes. He is anger burning like his hair, like carelessly cruel words. He walks careless of his accidental destruction. 

There are empty halls, secret passages with echoes of whispers. Shadows cling to the walls like secrets on the tip of your tongue. You see your snake for a moment, in the corner of your eye (and when did he become yours). You walk, trailing the halls like a ghost. This is your home. This is safe. You will not let it be taken from you. 

Transfigurations is an exercise is turning an object into something entirely different, through sheer force of will. You can understand that. The cat sits perched behind her desk, her eyes watching, watching, always watching. She does not see a boy in front of her, nobody does. Does she see a finely forged blade, with tragedy wrapped around the hilt? An echo of a boy who ran with a wolf and a girl with green eyes, their laughter, a softer time? 

These thoughts do nothing for you, nothing for anything but the ache, deep in your chest. You sit next to a snake you do not know her name, do not know her. But her eyes are not curious. They do not look at you. Do not care to see you. This rebellion is not subtle, proves that the spider was not an exception, but a beginning. You wonder if this smirk is becoming a habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about how long it's been since I updated. I was going through some not great things. I hope you guys like this one. And thank you so much to everybody who leaves comments and kudos!!! You make my way, by the way, I just posted some of my original poetry on here, if any of you want to check it out. That you to HarleySlytherinQuinn and Intern15_NightVale for the encouragement.


End file.
